Some called him The Lone Captain, the BBC called him The Buccaneer. He called himself a Freelance of the Sea. But a criminal court judge had other words in mind and sent him to prison – and hard labour – for 18 months.

But history, which dwells inordinately on the glamour of swashbuckling, has found a friendly niche for Dod Orsborne, a curious Jekyll and Hyde of a man who, in 1936, stole a seine netter from its owner and sailed out of Grimsby and into the newspaper headlines of the world.

That he was a brave and adventurous man there is no doubt. That he and his escapade on the Girl Pat live long in the memory is true. But the man other people described as forceful and colourful was not universally acclaimed, and his character would have suited the age of the first Elizabeth more than the century into which he was born.

Of the many self-made tribulations he faced, the lunatic schemes that hatched in April 1936 was to be the one for which he would be best remembered.

Dod Orsborne, skipper of the Girl Pat.

As skipper of the Girl Pat and with a crew of five – although a sixth man, his brother Jim, was hidden aboard – he took her into the North Sea ostensibly to fish off the West of Scotland.

But fishing was furthest from his mind.

The trip was supposed to last 14 days but two days later she put into Dover and conveniently rid herself of the ship’s engineer, a man called Jefferson and the only non-Grimbarian aboard.

Then there were five.

The Girl Pat then seemed to disappear from the face of the earth. Silence and speculation reigned as relatives of the missing men wrung their hands in anguish, the owners almost despaired of ever seeing their ship again, and the seafaring nations of the world watched and waited for news.

It came finally and sensationally on May 14. Orsborne had put into the tiny Spanish port of Concubion, taken on stores, had repairs effected, and had sailed again leaving unpaid bills behind him.

The news was at once good and bad ... good for those who waited bad for those who wanted Orsborne behind bars and the ship safely returned to Grimsby.

Once again the drama began and a blanket of silence fell across the oceans.

Dakar was a naval station in what was French West Africa. On May 26, like a bad penny, the Girl Pat put in, her skipper desperate for more supplies.

The mate, Harry Stone, who lived in Weelsby Street, Grimsby, was very ill and was taken ashore to hospital. Orsborne, rid of this burden, took on a ton of fresh water, four tons of fuel for his diesel engine – enough to get him a further 2,000 miles away – and met the British Consul.

But the Consul’s invitation to go ashore was rebuffed and, on the pretence of trying out his engines, Orsborne set sail into the blue beyond and a further fortnight of speculation and adventure.

Then there were four.

Back at home, the British public wanted to believe the best of their errant knight of the sea. Fuelled by romantic notions they came willingly to the conclusion that the Girl Pat, like something out of John Masefield’s Cargoes, was treasure hunting.

Captain Kidd’s name crept happily into the news. But a down-to-earth Grimsby fisherman who revealed that he had been asked to go on the hare-brained trip but had made plain he wanted nothing to do with it, said his bit.

“You can take it from me,” he told the Grimsby Telegraph, “that they have not gone in search of hidden treasure,” and he hinted darkly that Dod and brother Jim were America-bound to “make easy money”.

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On June 10 it was revealed that, unbelievably, the 75ft Girl Pat had actually crossed the Atlantic and had been sighted off French Guiana. her name had been painted out, but of her identity there was no doubt.

Nor indeed was there any further talk about hunting for pirates’ gold. It was plain that Orsborne intended to sell the stolen boat to some unquestioning South American and scarper with his brother.

Back home in Peaksfield Avenue, Mrs Ina Orsborne, mothering her 10 children, had done crying and grieving.

“I know no reason why he should leave the children and myself unprovided for, as he always seemed fond of them,”

“But,” she added, “he was always on the bold, reckless and adventuresome side, eager for change and excitement.”

While Skipper George Black Orsborne was ‘somewhere at sea’ in the runaway Girl Pat in 1936, his wife was left to carry on as best she could. She is pictured here with eight of her children.

But this dream of excitement ended on June 19, 80 days (but not around the world) from when it had begun.

Cornered off British Guiana, chased by armed police, outgunned and outrun after a fast and furious nine-mile chase, the Girl Pat, masquerading as the sloop Kiaora, gave up the unequal struggle and was towed to Georgetown.

The Orsbornes and the other two crewmen – cook Bill Stephen and a deckhand called Harris – were taken to clink under armed guard.

The epic 5,000-mile voyage of the Girl Pat was over.

Dod and brother Jim appeared at the Old Bailey in October and denied stealing the Girl Pat and conspiring to steal her.

They maintained the vessel’s owners had asked them to get rid of the boat in order to claim the insurance. Dod said his cut would have been 15 per cent. The owners retorted that the idea was “perfectly ridiculous”.

Dod admitted that he made his voyage with the sole assistance of a 6d school atlas belonging to his son, which he found in his pocket when they were off Dover.

Brother Jim also admitted that he had been given a “treasure map,” but doubted it’s veracity from the start.

The defence fell apart and, on October 22, Dod was given 18 months hard labour. Jim got 12 after they were found guilty on both counts.

The Girl Pat meanwhile had been reconditioned in Georgetown, passed fit for sea and had been bought, to be brought home as a tourist attraction, by two Grimsby businessmen with an eye to making an honest penny out of her.

Their names? Harry Markham Cook and J Carl Ross.

Orsborne had been born in Aberdeen in 1903, christened George Black after his father, and given an additional surname when his mother remarried following Mr Black’s death.

The Girl Pat

He ran away to sea at 14 in time for action in the First World War, lied about his age, served on a submarine chaser with Dover Patrol and took part in the magnificent St George’s Day action at Zeebrugge where, at the age of 15, he was wounded.

He was wrecked on his first trip to sea in a trawler, but rescued wit four others, came to Grimsby in 1919, was a trawler mate at the age of 19, and took his master’s certificate at the very early age of 22, helped through the exams by his devoted wife.

Before his Girl Pat escapade he led a shadowy existence in the Mediterranean, captaining a peacetime “Q” ship to glean intelligence for his masters at Gibraltar ... once single-handedly sabotaging supplies of aeroplanes destined for France from fascist friends in Italy and Germany.

When he left prison Orsborne – a man who had turned down the chance of becoming a professional prizefighter – welcomed another war and became a despatch rider in the London blitz. It was exciting. But his talents lay elsewhere.

Recognised, he was made skipper-lieutenant in the RNR, given command of a patrol trawler, then a minesweeper, and finally went to Combined Operations HQ to train commandos for the several schemes to invade Europe.

When this was over he had plans to visit Devil’s Island ... even to solve the mystery of the Marie Celeste.

In 1951 he was back in the headlines after being arrested and charged with gun-running off Trinidad. The charges were dropped ... but he forfeited his ship, an 86ft ketch.

Orsbornbe died in a hotel room in Brittany after a heart attack before Christmas in 1957. His wife, Ina, died in Grimsby, aged 87, in March 1986.

But the Girl Pat lived on. After her sea saga she became a tourist attraction at seaside resorts.

She made the headlines just once more, smuggling antiques.

Dod’s son Robert, who lived in San Antonio, Texas, had hoped to buy the Girl Pat if she was ever offered for sale, reuniting the Orsbornes with the old wooden Grimsby seine netter that transported their name to the front pages of newspapers the world over.